


Five ways Lorne became the military commander of Atlantis

by scherryzade



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5 Things, Gen, but none of them come easy, not all of them involve character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 20:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scherryzade/pseuds/scherryzade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Against his better judgement; Reluctantly; Unexpectedly; Between one moment and the next; Slowly</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five ways Lorne became the military commander of Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my LJ on [December 7th, 2009](http://scherryzade.livejournal.com/10853.html) for the [](http://sg1-five-things.livejournal.com/profile)[**sg1_five_things**](http://sg1-five-things.livejournal.com/) prompt of the same title ([Prompt 85.05](http://community.livejournal.com/sg1_five_things/202008.html))

### Against his better judgement

Evan stares at the jumper. There are deep gouges running along the right-hand drive pod, which won't close and keeps making pathetic creaking noises as it attempts to do so. It's smoking slightly.

He looks at the pilot, who tries, and fails, to look contrite.

"Puddlejumpers are not toys, sir."

"Y'know, Evan, you don't have to keep calling me 'sir'. Retired, remember?"

"Don't worry, sir, this isn't a sign of respect. It's just the only way I know to stop myself yelling at you, sir."

Sheppard - _John_ \- smirks. "Won't happen again, Colonel?"

Evan glares at him. "It better not, sir."

~

"Wraith are not toys, sir."

 

### Reluctantly

He doesn't know what's worse, the dark looks he gets from those who blame him, or the few nods he gets from people who don't resent him. The ones who think the Air Force is right.

It's not made any better by the knowledge that this is just an excuse, that if they wanted to destroy Sheppard with the Uniform Code they could have done it years ago. Neither he nor McKay have been that discreet, these past few years. So the fact that it's now, when DADT is half-way to being repealed - it's just an excuse, a useful way to get rid of Sheppard.

They don't want Sheppard in Atlantis. Evan still feels sick to his stomach that they think he's the sort of man they want in Sheppard's place.

They don't even want to wait for the Daedalus or the Hammond to pick Sheppard up. They've recalled Sheppard, and they're waiting for him to step through the gate.

The gate room is deathly quiet. Sheppard's said his goodbyes to his friends, and now he waits, not meeting anyone's gaze, for the gate to be dialled.

"Sir -" Sheppard looks up at him, frowning, and whatever Evan meant to say just sticks in his throat.

He does the only thing he can, and salutes. It's a smart, sharp-edged salute, the kind he hasn't had to use in years, and it's probably the first time since he left the Academy that it's actually sincere. He hopes Sheppard sees that.

Sheppard's expression blanks out, but then he shifts his bag from one shoulder to the other, and returns the salute. It's just as smart as Evan's, but undercut with a smile that has just a hint of Sheppard's familiar insouciance as Sheppard's gaze slips around the gate room. A flicker of movement catches Evan's eye, and he realises that the Marines in the gate room's guard detail are also saluting.

"Take care of her, Evan," says Sheppard, and Evan can only nod.

 

### Unexpectedly

"I quit."

"Sir?"

 

### Between one moment and the next

Two klicks from the gate, and they're pushing back past an unseen enemy, firing at spaces their attackers have already left.

Diaz at their front takes a hit to the arm, but just drops his P90 with a curse and draws his sidearm, firing awkwardly with his left hand. Evan yells at Thomson to take point, and the sergeant barrels forward.

Dex is on his left, practically dragging McKay. Evan can hear McKay whining, but he's not close enough to hear whether it's genuine pain or just, well, McKay.

Just behind him, he knows Johnson has Lieutenant Hennessey slung over one shoulder, still holding her weapon and cursing like the good marine she is.

Sheppard and Teyla are covering their rear, which is all kinds of embarrassing, because they're the ones being rescued from this godforsaken planet.

He doesn't thank God when he finally sees the gate ahead of them, because he doesn't have the breath. He pretends he isn't slumping over the DHD as he starts to dial, and is grateful to see the Marines set up a defensive line around the gate without being told.

There's a merciful lull in the firing, as if their enemy has realised they're going to get away. He only hears a scatter of shots as he punches in his IDC.

He's waiting for the city's reply when he hears McKay say "John?" Evan looks up in time to see McKay's customary frown slacken with shock.

He turns, and sees Sheppard standing, frowning down at his bloodied hand.

He watches Sheppard fall.

His radio buzzes, but he doesn't hear what's said.

The gunfire starts again in earnest, but it isn't loud enough to cover the wordless howl that Ronon makes as he runs to Sheppard's side. Teyla is already there, feeling desperately for a wound that Evan knows can't be fixed.

His radio buzzes again. " _...this is Atlantis, do you read?_ "

"Copy that, Atlantis, this is Lorne," he says automatically. "We're coming in hot, and we need a medical team -"

" _Copy that, Major Lorne, the shield is down -_ "

"Johnson," he yells, and the Marine snaps round to stare at him. "Take Hennessey through. Diaz, get McKay." He ignores McKay's short, stuttered protest. "Now, Diaz."

He turns back to where Sheppard lies. "Thomson, with me. Covering fire."

When he reaches them, he has to shake Teyla's shoulder to get her attention. She looks up at him, but she doesn't see him. "Go. Teyla, you have to go." Her grasp tightens on Sheppard's ruined tac vest, and she shakes her head. "We've got him. Go."

She stumbles as she tries to stand, and Evan nods to Thomson, who hooks a hand under Teyla's elbow with surprising gentleness, steadying her just enough. As she heads for the gate, looking backwards as she runs, Thomson follows, firing steadily, moving slowly to draw their attackers' fire.

"Ronon." Evan keeps his distance. "We have to go."

He doesn't need to hear Ronon to know he's refusing to leave.

"Can you -" Stupid question. "You've got him?" A sharp nod. "I'll cover you. Now _go_."

 

### Slowly

He is not John Sheppard.

The Marines and Airmen stationed in Atlantis are too well-trained to hesitate when he gives an order. But among those who served in the city under Sheppard's command, there is still a question in their minds. It's not doubt, exactly, just - a question.

He knows this, because he's asking the same thing: Is this the order Sheppard would have given?

Or, if you like, What Would John Sheppard Do?

He doesn't second-guess himself. Not often, anyway. He knows his own mind. It's just that sometimes he acts without thinking, and it's only later that he realises he's channelling Sheppard.

Before he came to Atlantis, he never gave an order without looking at it from every angle. Not if it really mattered. He wasn't one of those officers who'd spend so long deciding what to do that they'd still be giving orders when the enemy cut them down. He's a trained pilot, for crying out loud, he can think fast enough when there's a battle to win. But he was always cautious.

He's not an instinctive leader.

He's not John Sheppard.

Pegasus can wear you ragged. Even now, they're always waiting for the gate to dial. When the night-shift warns for a UOA, he finds himself half-dressed, boots on, before he's even awake.

By the time he reaches the gate room, Deveraux and Polson are already through the gate, weaponless and bootless but dragging one of the high council of Setia with them, babbling apologies.

"Sergeant."

Deveraux straightens up as he replies. "Ambushed, sir. The Setians say they've nothing to do with it. Some sort of political thing they failed to mention. Took Captain Vaughn, the doc, half our supplies. Burnt a lot of shit down."

"Ransom?"

"Don't know, sir." Which could mean anything, and never means anything good.

"How long?"

"Hour. Hour fifteen, tops. This guy swears they won't go further than their camp. Two hours from the gate."

That's doable. "How's the ground?"

"There's too much cover for a jumper, sir. Not without making a lot of noise."

"You two okay to go back there, show the way?" The two Marines nod. "Get geared up, back here in fifteen."

"Yessir," they chorus, and take off for the transporter.

"Banks! Get me three teams -" He rattles off a list of names from the night-shift. Marines, not pilots. Full military teams - no Ancient tech on Setia, no Wraith, just _people_ , threatening his.

The Setian keeps babbling excuses, and Evan's more than grateful when Richard arrives, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What -"

"Politics. Enemies of the state took Vaughn and Dr Yin hostage. I'm sending three teams for a basic search and rescue." says Evan. "Think we need to re-negotiate that trade agreement," he continues, and the Setian's shoulders slump as Richard's eyes light up.

Richard takes in the Marines streaming into the gate room. "Keep me informed," he says, and drags the unfortunate councillor to his meeting room.

"Sure."

One of the Marines, a 21-year-old Lieutenant who's been in Atlantis all of a week, fumbles his P90 as he struggles to settle his gear. Evan catches the weapon before it falls. The kid's eyes widen comically when he realises who's holding his weapon.

"It's Jefferson, right?"

"Yessir. Sorry sir -"

Evan shakes his head, and pulls loose the weapon's strap, clipping the P90 to it before handing the weapon back to Jefferson. He checks the kid's gear quickly, and when he's sure the lieutenant's all set, Evan rests his hand on the kid's shoulder. "You ready?"

Jefferson takes a breath, and then meets Evan's eyes. "Yessir."

Evan nods. "You'll be fine, Jefferson." He resists the urge to say -

"Don't worry, kid, we do this all the time." And now he doesn't need to.

"Thanks for the reminder, Major. That's very helpful," he says, but she just smirks at him. " _Major_."

She nods at the three teams waiting for her word. "We're ready."

"Good. Radio silence on this, okay? You've got six hours."

"Yessir."

"Don't make me come get you, Cadman."

She grins at him, and turns to face the gate as it dials.

It's not till the teams are through and the gate snaps shut that Evan lets himself stop for a moment. Six hours. He briefly considers going to watch Richard run rings round the Setian, but he's too tired to appreciate it.

An hour later, he's woken again.

"Cadman?" he asks into his radio.

" _Nossir. AR-27 on M1A-155. Apparently there was a problem with some -_ " Banks breaks off. " _You should probably come see, sir._ "

He stifles a laugh. This why he doesn't go out with every rescue party. Even New Lantea's long days don't have enough hours in them. "I'll be right there."

Sheppard would have gone to Setia, Evan realises. He didn't even consider it, even though staying in the city when his people are in danger makes Evan as antsy as it ever made Sheppard.

He is not John Sheppard.

He's starting to realise he doesn't need to be.

**Author's Note:**

> And the one way he didn't: [Zippy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/917885)


End file.
